


Trust Me When I Say I Love You

by dragonofdispair, ladydragon76



Series: Trust [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Post War, Lovers’ Quarrels, M/M, Secrets, idiot robots in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:35:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26366554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonofdispair/pseuds/dragonofdispair, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydragon76/pseuds/ladydragon76
Summary: “I love you” can be said in many different ways. That doesn’tnotmean that the one it’s said to will understand.
Relationships: Blurr/Ricochet (Transformers), Jazz/Prowl
Series: Trust [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1916056
Comments: 38
Kudos: 69





	Trust Me When I Say I Love You

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: Beta’d by Rizobact (many thanks to her!)

.

◇─◇──◇──◇─◇

.

The smell of warm takeout was obvious the moment Blurr opened the door to his townhouse. Apparently, Ricochet had decided to splurge, and Blurr smiled at the soft lighting, low music, and warm, spicy scent. Had Ricochet hit that little gourmet Velocitron-style energon cafe for them? 

"Hello~" Blurr called, not immediately seeing his lover. Their meal sat on the conversation table between the plush sofas in the lounge, and the lights were off in the kitchen. A glance up the stairs didn't help either as it was dark up there too. "Rico?" Had the mech assumed he'd have more time?

"Boo," Rico purred, fading out of the darkness near the door as his stealth mods and camouflage switched off, those flames of his blooming back to life on his chest. In one hand he had two long-stemmed, fluted glasses and in the other an expensive-looking bottle of bubbly energon.

Blurr turned and grinned. "Boo yourself, sneaky." He waved a hand toward the rather blatantly romantic set-up. "What'd I do to deserve this?" It was definitely off their usual menu of games and scenes, but Blurr liked it.

"Gotta surprise for you," Ricochet said, pouring a measure of the fizzy highgrade into each glass and offering one to Blurr. "Come on."

"I like surprises." Blurr followed along, sipping at the highgrade. It was nice stuff. Like the stuff too pricey to bother stocking at Maccadam's. Artisanal. He perched himself on a sofa and smiled as Ricochet took a seat beside him. "Granted the vibe in here is a surprise too, but I like being spoiled as well," he purred and leaned in to nuzzle at Ricochet's sensor horn.

Ricochet set the bottle and his own glass down before he let himself lean back so that Blurr could reach more easily. He wrapped an arm around Blurr, pulling him in close and petting down his back. "I know. Got your favorites from that place you like," he nodded to the oh-so-romantic containers of take out laid out in the flickering candlelight.

"I see. Thank you," Blurr said and snuggled in, not in any particular hurry when Ricochet was willing to cuddle him. He almost teased about that, but that was a surefire way to end it, and over the vorn of their... liaison he had learned to curb the impulse to joke about certain things he otherwise would have. "Careful though," he murmured, cautious of his volume so close to Ricochet's audials. "Might be setting your own bar higher here."

"Told you: got something special tonight. Ain't doing this all the time." The gruff words were offset by a gentle, scritch over Blurr's helmwings.

"Grumbly," Blurr said, sighing as he relaxed, the dainty flute of highgrade resting against his thigh. "So where's my surprise?" he asked but made no move to let Ricochet up.

"Right here. Gotta tell you something." Ricochet took a breath, hesitated. "S'hard. Ain't told anyone this for a long time. Only one other person knows it."

The surprise was Ricochet telling Blurr something? That was… odd; fine, he supposed, but this seemed serious and less like an enjoyable ‘surprise’. Blurr sat up and met Ricochet's visor. "Okay," he said and slid his hand down to clasp one of Ricochet's. Serious and he'd only ever told one person. A million unpleasant things ran through Blurr's mind. The war had been long and vicious, and mechs had done and suffered through all kinds of things.

Ricochet clasped Blurr's hand lightly, thumbs rubbing him lightly. "I got a twin. Split spark."

Blurr's vents stilled. He had been prepared to hear almost anything other than that. It took an extra moment to process the meaning of the words. "What?"

"Twin," Ricochet repeated, his hand stilling. "Split spark. Ain't never told anyone." Blurr felt him take another, bracing breath. "S'Jazz."

Still, Blurr couldn't quite comprehend. Oh, he understood. He just couldn't quite get his head around it. Then it all snapped into place hard enough to make him flinch. "You have a bondmate. Jazz is your bondmate." Never mind that twins were different from mechs who chose to bond. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, Twin Twist and Topspin, even Soundwave's little glitches, Rumble and Frenzy; , Blurr knew enough twins. One thing he’d learned — no one was ever as important to a twin as their twin.

"And you're just now telling me," Blurr said softly. Well. He'd known from the very beginning that Ricochet didn't do commitment, but after so long together, after each having the occasional no-attachment fling here or there and still returning to each other, after letting the mech etch his name!!! into Blurr's substructure,  _ now _ , he was being told?! Blurr pulled his hand back and set the high grade aside to stare right into Ricochet's visor.

Ricochet wrinkled his nose. Then breathed out slowly, counting as he did so, visibly reining in his temper. “Yeah. I’m telling you. Now or a hundred years from now, I’m telling you.”

"And why not ten years ago?" Blurr asked, scowling at the obvious effort involved in Ricochet keeping his temper. "Why not fifty? Why not when I asked if more than just fragging was possible between us? Why not when you moved in?" His voice grew louder with each question. "Why the frag not when I trusted you with my naked damn spark?!"

Blurr shot to his feet and paced away, fists clenched. His trust was essential to every aspect of their relationship. Ricochet saw him at his most vulnerable and breakable, and he had hidden something as crucial as a bondmate from Blurr. 

"You think I took any of that lightly just 'cuz I didn't tell you something I ain't told anyone?" Ricochet hissed, bristling. Blurr saw him start to get up, then very deliberately keep himself seated.

Blurr cycled his vents and fought for calm as well, but it hurt, and with every word, he felt his temper slipping through his fingers. "I think... you hid information from me that changes everything about my future. I think I gave you every microgram of my trust and you didn't trust me in return."

"Wasn't my call," Ricochet growled, fingers flexing to sheath and unsheath his claws. He managed not to tear into the couch though. "Trusted you with a lotta other things though. And I — we are trusting you with this now."

Blue optics narrowed. "You expect me to believe that the mech you dragged into the bar and forced to confess his love for Prowl was able to force you to keep your mouth shut about something this important? Because I get it. During the war? Yeah, safer to leave it a secret, but the war's been over, and you—  _ both _ of you hid this. He lied to my fragging face when I asked him about you!" Blurr was going to murder Jazz. Absolutely murder him. 'Don't know much', Blurr's aft!. He huffed and swung his arms out to let them flop back down. "Did you think I'd ever betray you? You think if you had told me even back when we first started fragging that you were a twin, but hey, big secret, don't tell, that I'd have broken that trust? How frelling little do you think of me?"

"Didn't think it then, but I barely knew you then. A few weeks of fragging and you expect me to know your soul?" Ricochet crossed his arms in front of him. "I don't think you'd tell now. If I thought that little of you I wouldn't be telling you." He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, then stood. He bristled but smoothed the armor down deliberately. "You want a list of all the things we've done to keep this a secret?" he snarled. "'Cause lying to your face isn't the worst of it." His arms went to his sides, where his claws flexed. He stalked around the table, toward Blurr. "Lied to a lotta people. Killed more than a few."

"I don't have any secrets from you though!" Blurr snapped, not the least intimidated. "And I don't think you should have told me those first weeks, but maybe it should've been mentioned when you moved in here and this became  _ our _ home. You think I don't know how it works with twins? He's your bondmate. He's your number one, and for over a fucking  _ vorn _ I thought I was!" He jabbed a finger toward Ricochet's chest. "You just let me think it too," he growled, voice low and the hurt in his field. "Frag you for being angry with me for not jumping for joy to learn I've been played for a fool for so long!"

"Just because Jazz is important doesn't mean you aren't," Ricochet scoffed. He growled and clawed at the air in Blurr's direction, never once coming close to his plating. "And if you don't have secrets then tell me who coerced you into sparkplay. Tell me their names." His yellow visor dimmed threateningly.

"They're dead!" Blurr shouted and threw his hands out. "They're all fragging dead because the Towers fell and took them down too! Or Starscream personally murdered them when he blew up the Senate! Or I put a blaster bolt through his spark before he could hurt the mech he was about to rape! But okay, you want names? Platinum, Prismlight, Axle…" He thought back and rattled off a dozen more names, all impossibly wealthy mechs, and all very long-dead. "It's not a secret because it's not important. Who they were, what they did, it doesn't matter because they can't do it anymore. Not to me, and not to anyone else! I didn't hide that information from you, I just didn't want to talk about it because I don't like thinking about it, but thanks for insisting. I'm sure my dreams will be great tonight!"

Ricochet snarled and whirled, stalking away from Blurr to glare at the wall. 

"Would you," he said, calm over the anger, "like me to stay with you tonight? Or get someone who will?"

It was a retreat but it wasn't an apology.

The sob burst out too suddenly for Blurr to stop it, but he clapped a hand over his mouth and turned for the stairs. He hadn't even considered that Ricochet would leave, and that hurt even more. "Do whatever you want," he choked out and fled up to their berthroom.

There was nothing but silence from downstairs for a good twenty minutes or more, and Blurr wept out the pain in his spark. The idea that it was over, that he hadn’t meant as much to Ricochet as he’d come to believe, tore a gaping wound into him and left his chest feeling hollowed out.

He had managed to calm some, cry himself out, when he heard the door to the bedroom ease open. He heard a soft footstep, which had to be deliberate because Ricochet was... was as silent as Jazz was. This wasn’t the first time he’d thought that, but it was the first time the thought hurt.

How had he not realized it before?

Claws tapped on the storage trunk before it opened, then closed again. Physically the claws were the biggest difference between them, and it hadn’t even registered that both of them had retractable ones. Not common. He’d never questioned it though. They were a standard Polyhexian frametype, and similar jobs required similar mods. But with the claws and other things, it was like they had chosen opposite default states. 

Hindsight made it all seem so clear, but Blurr couldn’t remember Ricochet and Jazz ever interacting on the few occasions they had both been in the bar at the same time. Prowl and Jazz never came to any house parties Blurr threw either. It just didn’t make sense because twins stuck together. Always. More than frame or frametype or mods, that was what made twins recognizable as twins. But Ricochet and Jazz acted like strangers. No. They acted like the other didn’t even exist. It had all been very subtle and very deliberate. Blurr was meant to miss it. Everyone had been meant to miss it.

How though? How did they manage it? And why? During the war, sure, that made sense. And it was a little understandable now, given how Ricochet was pretending to be a “retired” Decepticon intelligence officer, but why wouldn’t he tell Blurr?

He laid still, listening and trying not to cry again, well aware Ricochet could tell he was still awake. He had no idea what to say because there were no other ways to explain why it hurt. Ricochet should have trusted him and he hadn't, and that stung. There was some relief that Ricochet was there though, unless — anxiety crashed through Blurr once more — unless Ricochet was there to tell him he was leaving.

He heard a soft snarl. "That fear of me or that I'll leave?" he asked bluntly.

Voice glitching static, Blurr managed, "Never been afraid of you." Which was nothing but the truth. It was also why agony ripped at his spark now. He'd trusted so deeply, had been so sure Ricochet would never hurt him more than he wanted. He was terrified Ricochet would leave, but Blurr had no idea how he was going to find that trust again. What other secrets were there?

With a crinkle, the mylar blanket settled on top of him before Blurr felt the bed dip. Ricochet climbed in, slowly put his arm over Blurr's shoulders.

Blurr leaned back into the embrace and tried to breathe regularly. It wasn't the first time Ricochet had made him cry, but it was different this time, it wasn’t part of a scene or game where he’d asked to be pushed to his limits. He wanted to talk. He wanted to make Ricochet understand why it mattered, but the last thing Blurr thought he could bear was another fight, so he clenched his jaw and pressed close and tried to just... stop. They could talk again when they were both calmer. There had to be a way around this. The right words existed, Blurr just needed to calm down and think better, then he could make Ricochet understand.

Maybe Ricochet felt the same way because he didn't say anything either. He just gathered Blurr up into his arms and held him, stroking him comfortingly through the mylar.

It took a long time but eventually Blurr faded into recharge, Ricochet's warmth still wrapped around him.

.

◇─◇──◇──◇─◇

.

Ricochet stayed. Blurr blinked awake, hesitant to move because... Ricochet had stayed. Cuddled up against him like it was any normal night, holding Blurr like he was precious and protected.

He supposed he was, really, but in the cold light of morning Blurr only felt worse. Ricochet had gone to a lot of trouble to set up a nice night for them. It was just that his 'surprise' hadn't been the good kind, and Blurr couldn't imagine how Ricochet had thought it would be. Not that he was going to have that fight this morning. He wasn't ready. He wasn't sure he'd ever be ready, but for now, he needed normal.

"Hungry?" Blurr asked, voice still scratchy and aware Ricochet was awake. Either the mech rarely recharged or he woke the instant he heard Blurr's quiet systems begin to spin up.

Ricochet groaned and tugged Blurr's frame closer, but didn't squoosh him into the blankets like he usually did. Blurr felt fingers brush against the decorative collar on his neck, as though checking it was still there. "I'll eat on the road," he said. "Don't have to cook for me. Got an early match."

"Oh. Okay." Blurr pressed back tighter and lifted his hand to cover Ricochet's fingers over the collar. The only time he had taken it off was before a race, and the ones he was allowed in were pretty few and far between. Ricochet was always there after to put it right back on for him. "Come to Mac's and I'll feed you after?"

"Yeah." Ricochet nuzzled Blurr's shoulder.

Squeezing Blurr once more like he didn't ever want to let go... then Ricochet released him and pushed himself upright. He didn't indulge in his usual languid stretch. "Yeah. I'll be there," he repeated, then stood. Blurr thought he was going to leave right then, as quickly as possible, but he stopped, turned back. "You gonna be okay?"

It was on the tip of Blurr's tongue to say  _ it, _ but he didn't dare. If Ricochet was only just trusting him enough to tell him he had a twin, then Blurr couldn't risk putting even more pressure on him. "Yeah," he said instead and sat up too, though he was anything but.

"See you tonight then." And he was gone, ignoring the obvious lie. Ricochet never let him get away with claiming he was fine when he wasn’t… 

Blurr managed to get as far as the washroom and get the cleanser going, then sat on the floor for a good long cry. He considered calling Drift, or even Whirl, but he wouldn't be able to tell them everything, and Drift at the very least would know it was about Ricochet, and then he'd want to get all stabby, and sure, Blurr was hurt, but he didn't want Ricochet beat up. They would handle this themselves, get through it, and be better for it. Then maybe Blurr could say the thing he’d been wanting to say for so long now.

A couple of hours later, he made it down to his kitchen and began to get the mixes ready. He needed to deal with the tea crystals too, but they would survive until tomorrow morning if he ran out of time.

A polite knock on the door interrupted him. Obviously, someone who'd been to Earth; everyone else just commed first.

Towel in hand to wipe them off as he hurried over to the door, Blurr frowned through the bubbly surface of the glass window, not seeing the usual shadow and smear of colors of a visitor. Maybe it was a delivery? He keyed the door open—

_ WHAM! _

Pain blossomed on his jaw. His assailant followed up with a sweeping kick that took Blurr's legs out from under him and they fell in a heap, Blurr not quite pinned beneath the mostly-white blur. He kicked his way free and aimed a strike at the dark helm, though realization made Blurr pull the power of that kick and twist to shift the angle. Instead of Jazz’s helm being severely dented, he ended up with a blue scrape just under his sensor horn. Moving fast, Blurr scrambled farther away and wobbled to his feet, gyros still reeling from the punch and the shock of being attacked after so long living in peace.

"What the frag did you say to him?" Jazz hissed, claws he rarely showed off bared threateningly. Claws so much like —  _ exactly like _ — Ricochet’s.

Blurr eased back until he was halfway across the lounge with his weight centered for another attack. "Ask him," he said, voice low. "I owe you nothing, and I don't want to hear a single word you have to say right now. Get out!"

Jazz's visor glinted dangerously as he righted himself as well. "I'm asking you: what did you say to him?"

"You're not asking, you're demanding. If your  _ brother _ wants to tell you private information, then I guess I can't fragging stop him, but I'm not telling you slag," Blurr snapped back. "Now get out of my house!"

"My  _ brother," _ Jazz repeated, imitating Blurr's emphasis, "thought you loved him and right now he's walking around with his spark ripped out and he don't need to say anything for me to know you. Caused. It."

Blurr opened his mouth to argue, to say he did love Ricochet, but like Pit was anyone other than Ricochet going to hear those words first. And frag it all to the Pits! It wasn’t fair that Jazz knew something that Blurr hadn’t even been able to say out loud yet! "Ricochet and I will work this out for ourselves," he said with forced calm, though the words still came out through gritted teeth. "And this?” Blurr stabbed a finger at Jazz. “This right here, is exactly why I deserved to know he was a twin ages ago. Now for the last fragging time. Get. Out!" Blurr could do it, he could shove Jazz back out the door. He had left himself the space for the speed and he was at the right angle, but attacking Jazz meant... it meant it would be over. The partnership with Ricochet, the friendship with Jazz, even Jazz working for him. Blurr’s world would come crashing down around him because someone he trusted hadn’t told him something so damn critical about himself.

"Just leave, Jazz," Blurr said tiredly, feeling the weight of it all again even as he straightened out of the defensive crouch. "If you care at all, if you want to help at all, then leave."

Jazz's visor narrowed. He seethed. Blurr could practically see him calculating the same thing Blurr had and reaching the same conclusion. "You don't deserve anything," he finally snapped, viciously. "You don't get to decide when we felt safe enough to hand you the knife that could kill us." Claws flexed, and Blurr really thought for a moment that he'd pounce, but then he turned and stalked to the door. 

He slammed it behind him as he left.

"I deserved to know I might face that," Blurr mumbled and went to the washroom to check his face. What sucked even more was that the mech Blurr would normally call about this was Ricochet. And he either already knew and was fine with Jazz punching Blurr— And denting his face! Or, Blurr figured as he tried to clean the scuff marks and wondered if he could pop out the dent, Ricochet  _ would _ be fine with it once he found out. That was how it worked with twins. Their brother  _ always _ came first. One got into a fight, the other was right there with him. It had been that way in every interaction Blurr had witnessed with twins, and he had no reason at all to believe Ricochet would be different.

As for hurting Ricochet, he already knew that, he just didn't know how to fix it. Blurr didn’t know if this could be fixed. How long could he tolerate knowing that if he and Ricochet had a disagreement, Jazz would show up and thrash him? This was why, no matter how much he had enjoyed ‘facing them, Blurr had never sought more than pleasure and release from Topspin and Twin Twist. 

Alright, to be fair, the fact that they hadn’t been into dominance had been part of it too, but Blurr knowing he’d never mean as much to either of them as they meant to each other was the main reason.

Was it so wrong to want to be the first priority to his own mate?

Except they weren’t really mates, were they? Blurr had asked so long ago for permission to allow himself to feel more, and Ricochet had allowed it and agreed to see where they went and what might happen. There had been no promises beyond that. That Blurr had convinced himself there was more had been his own doing, not Ricochet’s.

It still stung that Ricochet hadn’t trusted him as deeply as he had trusted Ricochet. It hurt to know he would never be first.

Blurr stared at his reflection and wanted to crawl back into bed — and not because of the dent — but the bar had to open. Oh well, if anyone asked, he’d slipped and knocked his chin in the kitchen. There was no reason to involve the general public in this mess.

Blurr was not concerned about Jazz lurking around outside. If he'd been planning an assassination he wouldn't have knocked and started a fight. Well, that and the fact that while Ricochet might be alright with a punch, he probably wouldn’t be okay with Blurr's death. Either that or Jazz really liked his job, and without Blurr, the bar would close.

Not at all feeling like he wanted to be there — for the first time ever — Blurr got to the bar, set up, cooked, and then opened. He was only mildly surprised when Jazz showed up but didn't say anything. It wasn't that Blurr was giving Jazz the cold-shoulder, exactly, but that he had nothing to say and really didn't want to have a new fight on his hands. He would have Jazz's cool cloth and slushy for after his set and remain professional.

Of course, the questions about the dent along his jawline started right off, but Blurr gave them an optic roll and shrug, asked if they knew how slippery spilled oil was, and carried on for a few hours until, of all mechs, Prowl entered the bar just as Jazz began his set.

Had  _ he _ known Jazz and Ricochet were twins? He had to have, right? He had access to their files!

Blurr felt his mood crash again and wished the night would just end. Thank Primus the bar was closed tomorrow and it was his day off. He was busy enough to stay open every day, but it was nice to have that time off too.

"You okay?" a mech asked as Blurr stumbled to a halt.

"Uh... yeah. Yeah, no I'm good, I just suddenly remembered the oven at home, but... yeah I turned it off." Except that no, he was very much not alright. Prowl had been with Ricochet for a bit. Had he really not known? How could he have not?

And he was angling toward the end of the bar with that polite, attentive expression mechs who wanted drinks — the respectful ones, at least — sometimes wore.

"Hello," Prowl greeted, "Cesium Sour and— are you alright?" His optics were on the dent too.

"Oh, this?" Blurr asked with a grin and vague wave at his face. "That's what happens when you spill oil and get into a fight with a countertop about it." The two closest mechs left their stools and headed for the door, arm in arm, leaving Blurr fairly certain no one else was close enough to hear, but he... no, he really couldn't ask. "The sour and what else?"

Prowl optics narrowed. "That was a lie," he stated flatly.

Blurr stilled. Oh right, he was dealing with Prowl here. "It's also the only answer I'm willing to give. Ricochet didn't do it," he added though, suddenly worried that, given Ricochet's reputation, Prowl would assume it was him. Publicly, Ricochet was still an ex-Decepticon interrogation specialist who fought in the Rage Cage because peace wasn’t doing it for him. Not a good rep even before taking his normal attitude into account.

"Ricochet didn't—" Prowl stopped himself, paused, then glanced at Jazz. He took a deep, calming breath. "Would you like help with the dent?"

"It would be nice not to have to keep answering how I got it," Blurr said, not missing the significance of the glance at Jazz. Well, if Jazz's partner got mad at him for hitting Blurr, that was fine. Blurr hadn't tattled. "I couldn't get it myself and didn't have time to bother a medic." He glanced around the bar, but everyone else was content for the moment. "Hey, Blue,” he called, waiting until the Praxan looked over. “Mind the bar for a few? Prowl’s going to help me,” he added with a gesture toward his chin.

“Sure,” Bluestreak said easily and continued drying glasses.

“If you want to come around the end and into the back room,” Blurr said to Prowl, “I don't have any tools or anything."

"I still have my first aid kit in subspace," Prowl assured.

Blurr remembered Prowl's first aid kit. It was practically a miniature operating theater. Since he wasn’t a medic he couldn’t use all of it, but  _ just in case… _ Blurr chuckled and waved Prowl to the back. "Never change, Prowl." He ducked into the backroom, flicked on the light, and asked, "Where do you want me? I could sit on the counter if that works?"

"That's fine." A box appeared in Prowl's hands — only part of his full kit — and he opened it, withdrawing a small dent popper.

Once seated on the counter, Blurr tucked his fingers under his thighs. The dent was still sensitive, and he didn't want to flinch or risk pushing Prowl away. "I appreciate this. First round on the house," he added with a grin.

"Thank you." While he attached the dent popper, Blurr heard the hiss of electronic eavesdropping countermeasures being activated. "I am going to hazard a guess that you did not react as well as I did to the news."

"So you  _ didn't _ know?" Blurr asked, trying not to move his jaw much. "Doesn't it hurt that he never trusted you before now?"

Prowl shrugged. "A little sting." At first, Blurr thought Prowl meant finding out had stung, but then he pulled the dent without giving him a countdown or any other indicator. It released with a very loud pop! 

"Frag!" Blurr yelped and rubbed his face the moment he could touch it. "Ow... Thanks again though," he muttered and slipped back to the floor, arms crossed over his chest and aware of how defensive the posture looked as he hugged himself, the hurt returning. “Seriously, Prowl. And I’m not trying to cause trouble for you and Jazz, but all the time you’ve known each other. All that trust and faith, and he hid this from you. It really doesn’t bother you?”

"Given how long they kept it a secret and the risks involved, it would not have surprised or bothered me at all if they'd taken it to their graves."

"But this is a pretty important piece of information," Blurr began slowly. Maybe Prowl didn't mind, but Blurr still ached over the lack of trust. "Just because it's a habit to keep it a secret doesn't mean we shouldn't have been told sooner. Not to mention you and Jazz have a completely different relationship from Rico and me."

“I think you’re making potentially unwarranted assumptions about Jazz and my relationship,” Prowl corrected mildly. “Just because I don’t have him in a collar,” his optics flicked down to the subtle, jewelry-like lock Blurr wore, “doesn’t mean we don’t engage in power exchange.”

Wow. Okay. Blurr could unpack that later. “Then you should understand. If I can trust him as much as I always have, then he should've been able to trust me, especially since dealing with twins is different.”

Prowl sighed and met Blurr’s gaze evenly. "Not all twins are the same, Blurr."

“No. But all twins put their brother first and before all others,” Blurr replied and gnawed his lip.

“This was no trivial thing they shared with us,” Prowl said, and Blurr didn’t think he’d ever heard the mech speak  _ that _ gently to anyone before.

“I know that.”

“Perhaps it is perspective,” Prowl suggested and joined Blurr against the counter’s edge. “For me, in my role, Jazz’s trust is something gifted. I am sure it is the same for you and Ricochet. I cannot demand that trust. I cannot set a requirement on the level of that trust.” He held up his hands, cupped and closed together at first, then slowly opened them, palms up and bowl-shaped. “I can only accept and cherish what he offers. In your role, you are used to offering up the trust. How would you feel if Ricochet demanded more from you faster than you were comfortable giving it?”

Blurr blinked and looked up at Prowl. He knew exactly what that felt like. One of the things he’d always liked about Ricochet was that he didn’t pressure for more than— “Oh.”

Prowl smiled ever so slightly. “Yes.” He stepped back and subspaced the box. 

“Thank you, Prowl,” Blurr said and keyed the door for Prowl when the mech moved toward it. "You never did say what else you wanted." Maybe Prowl would drink for free all night. He had made a very damn good point, and Blurr wanted to talk to Ricochet even more now. They had always been good about communicating… other than the L thing. Maybe it was time to get over that bridge too and see what happened?

"A small glazed oil cake. But there's no rush." Prowl nodded to him. "I'll just go find a table, thank you."

Blurr nodded back and waved to the mech trying to flag him down since Bluestreak appeared to be busy mixing a full tray of drinks. "I'll bring it out to you in just a minute, Prowl. And really, thank you again."

The evening dragged on despite how busy it was, but Prowl sticking around gave Blurr the excuse to take Jazz's slushy and cool towel over to him instead of confronting Jazz himself. Ricochet, however, failed to appear even after Maccadam's was closed and empty, and Blurr was left to search for more chores to stall leaving. He had even restocked the energon and premixed the things that would keep for the extra day. Spark in his throat, he loitered around the backroom and waited for Ricochet to show up. He said he'd be here, so Blurr would give him more time.

At last, he heard the familiar voice behind him. "Hey."

Blurr jumped, surprised Ricochet had come in the front door, which Blurr hadn't locked yet, then he gasped when he got a good look at him. He was scraped and dented and it looked like he'd been raked half a dozen times with someone’s claws. "What the frag, Rico?!" Primus! He really needed to get off his aft and replace the old first aid kit. "How...? The arena's supposed to fix you up after matches!"

"Did." Ricochet came forward, lifted his hand as though to stroke Blurr's jaw. Hesitated. Then lowered his hand. "He had no right to hit you."

Blurr took a second look at those claw marks and saw they looked just like Ricochet’s, which Blurr now knew were exactly like Jazz’s. "This is all from Jazz?!" he asked, optics wide. He stepped closer to Ricochet, spark aching for the aborted touch. "How's he look?" Before this whole revelation fiasco, Blurr had secretly figured Jazz could take Ricochet in a real fight, but now...

"'Bout as bad." Ricochet shrugged. "Told me to come, so I did. Wanted to talk?"

Blurr blinked. "Yeah. Uh... hungry? Or would you rather go home where the medkit is?" He could at least help Ricochet clean up, so turned to wet a cloth. "You know," he began and stepped in close to begin gently dabbing at the tears on Ricochet's shoulder, "I'm not sure where this ends. He hurt me for hurting you, so you hurt him for hurting me. Should I go hurt him for hurting you now? When's Prowl going to get tangled up in this mess? I think we need to set some boundaries." Blurr tried to control his field, but he wasn't sure he was doing all that complete of a job keeping the dragging sadness from it.

"You shouldn't go hurt him. Jazz and me, that's always a fair fight. Settled now." Ricochet started to reach out to Blurr again, but again refrained.

"You can touch me if you want," Blurr said softly. He kept his gaze on the scratches and tears and gouges, cleaning as carefully as he could. Ricochet might be tough, but pain was pain. “What about Jazz? Am I going to have to watch out for him every time you and I get into a disagreement?”

“No.” Ricochet snarled softly. “Told you: he had no right. And we usually don’t poke at each others’ relationships. Dunno what the half-wit was thinking.” He paused. “No… I know exactly what Jazz was thinking but he was still being stupid and poking his dumb bumper where it didn’t belong when he did it.”

Blurr nodded to that. “I’d like our relationships to be separate. I don’t want him showing up, and I’d rather you not go after Prowl if they get into some argument.”

“Yeah.” Ricochet traced his claws gently over Blurr’s arm. “Way it’s supposed to be. He’s always gonna be around, ‘cause there just isn’t any getting around that we’re only half a mech each, but he’s gonna keep his claws to his dumb, shiny self.”

“You’re not half a mech,” Blurr said softly, then cycled his vents. “I’m sorry. I reacted badly last night. I felt untrusted. But also, I’ve known other twin sets. I wanted to be and had let myself believe that I was your number one priority, only to find out I couldn’t be. It wasn’t fair to either of us, but I did it." Blurr sighed again and clung to his control despite the sting behind his optics. "I know you went to a lot of trouble to set up last night, that it was a big deal for you, and I'm sorry I hurt you. Prowl said something that sort of gave me some perspective. I don’t get to demand the level of trust you give me, just like you’ve never demanded it from me. So I really am sorry.”

“Back in the bad old days,” Ricochet said flatly, too distant for rage but too angry to be anything but, “where me and Jazz came from, twins were only half-people and cursed ones at that. Wasn’t murder if only half the spark would die. Was just slag, ‘cause when one goes the other does too, but there was still lots of harassment and slag and we learned not to let on real quick.” 

“Sides mentioned something similar once,” Blurr murmured, optics intently focused on the cut he was cleaning. “And I think part of what upset me was something else he once said.” Vents hitching slightly, he continued, “They— he and Sunstreaker, have been looking for someone who would accept both of them and the fact that whoever that mech ended up being, that he wouldn’t ever be as important to either of them as they were to each other. I don’t want Jazz suddenly deciding I’m not good enough for you, and you leaving. And now that’s a possibility.”

“Ain’t,” Ricochet refuted, flexing his claws. “He ain’t got the right.”

“No?” Blurr asked and dared look up and meet Ricochet’s visor. There was something in the set of his jaw that stopped Blurr from pushing. “Okay. Well. Then there's something I haven't said because... because I'm afraid you'll leave if I do.”

Ricochet wrapped Blurr in his arms, heedless of the dangling patch half-attached to his shoulder. "Jazz is a giant, perpetually twitterpated moron. Knew he was sweet on someone for six million years, but I didn't know it was the same person the whole time. Idiot usually falls in and out of love so frigging easily... We agreed a long time ago that this, our last, biggest secret, the one that could kill us... well, we couldn't share it just 'cuz of love. Love’s too easy for him. It had to be forever."

The air stilled in Blurr's vents. "What?" he whispered breathlessly but leaned into Ricochet and held him back tight. Ricochet couldn't possibly be saying what Blurr thought he was. That was... He was dreaming and had fallen asleep at a table or something. Right?

"Forever. I thought it was time. Fragged it up good though, which just goes to show I ain't cut out for, dunno, love and that scrap." Ricochet petted Blurr. "Jazz got it all after all."

"No," Blurr denied instantly and pressed his head harder against Ricochet's, nose nudging his cheek. "I love you," he breathed, spark throbbing too fast. Ricochet’s arms tightened around him, and he waited for Ricochet to respond, hoping to hear the words back.

Ricochet opened his mouth, his vocalizer clicked twice as he tried to speak, and when words still wouldn't come, he nuzzled his way into Blurr neck.

Blurr purred and leaned in more. If it had been difficult for him to admit, how hard must it be for Ricochet? He was a mech of actions rather than words anyway. "We just... we tripped and stumbled a little," Blurr whispered. "I understand the reason you both kept it a secret." He cycled his vents and held tighter, then let go of his field so Ricochet could feel all of it, unfiltered. The hurt, the longing, the fear. Primus, Blurr was so afraid. "I wish I could redo this last day. I reacted too fast and didn't give you time to help me understand why now and not before. I'm sorry." He tipped his head and kissed Ricochet's cheek, fighting against the burn behind his optics. "The why does make a difference. I felt what I felt and reacted, and maybe you could have worded it a little better at the start, but neither of us have done this before. I don't think that means we're bad at it though."

Slowly, almost tentatively, Ricochet let his own EM field unfurl. He was more controlled but also hurt and afraid and longing. "Am though. Didn't even know I could feel those emotions until we got Jazz and Prowl together and I realized what I was starting to feel for you wasn't Jazz leaking through the bond again. It'd never been me before. Dunno what the heck I'm doing."

"Well... then I guess we just try to get better at it," Blurr said and tried to burrow their fields together. "I suppose we could start with communicating better." Which, honestly, Blurr had thought they were pretty good at, but when he really thought about it, they only truly communicated about interfacing, never about what they felt or wanted for the future, or about actually building their lives together.

"I should've told you ages ago," Blurr said, and let his weight slump with guilt. "I didn't trust you enough to risk it. Bit hypocritical of me, huh?" He shook his head at himself. "You're worth trying to be better for, so I'm going to do better. I mean... we don't fight. That means we're either insanely lucky or we're really well-matched."

"I like submissives." Ricochet shrugged. He pulled Blurr against him and pressed their helms together. "Sex is easy for me."

"Sex is always easy, and you're really good at it," Blurr murmured, and though he didn't hide the coil of lust, he did dismiss it for the time being. "But that's not all this is. Hasn't been for a while. For me at least. I just didn't want to push you. I really don't want to push you away. You're... I don't know. This is going to sound stupid and cliché, but you're the best I've ever had. And for a while, I figured that was what it was too. I just appreciated how good you are to me, but then I kind of began to think it was more than that, but we had our boundaries, and I was afraid to cross that line and make you leave. We don't do commitment, right? But I wanted to. I want to." He sighed, aware he was beginning to babble.

Ricochet kissed him, brief but gentle. "Yes. Was trying to say it last night. I want to too."

Blurr nuzzled in and held tight — or at least as tight as he dared without aggravating Ricochet's wounds. "Why don't we walk home? We'll get you cleaned and patched properly, I'll get you something to eat." They did have a good stock in the kitchen. "And we can figure this out." Blurr lifted his head so he could meet Ricochet's gaze. "I really want to figure it out. I want you happy, you know?" He nudged their fields together, pushing the sincerity through. It was strange and a little uncomfortable to say all these things, but they needed to. Clearly.

Uncomfortable didn't even begin to cover it for Ricochet. Blurr could see the struggle in his optic band, feel it in his EM field, and then feel when he gave up. "Sure. Home sounds good."

"Okay. Sit tight." Blurr eased back slowly, but once he was out of the backroom, he darted to the door, locked it, killed the lights, and hurried back to Ricochet. They could have driven. In fact, Ricochet probably had to get here, but Blurr didn't want to make any of the wounds worse. Plus it gave him the excuse to link his fingers with Ricochet's and stay close enough to keep their fields together.

Ricochet let Blurr lace their fingers together and followed Blurr’s lead, choosing to walk with him. Though, as soon as Blurr had the back door locked and they had turned toward the townhouse, Rico subtly took the lead, making it clear that Blurr was following him.

There was something soothing — there always was — in Ricochet taking charge. No matter how subtly. Blurr let himself be led, willing to see where they were going and what the new plan was. He was still concerned over the injuries, but they weren't bleeding anymore, so he wouldn't fuss. His free hand toyed with the collar as they walked, and once they were home, Blurr left the opening of their door to Ricochet, still following along.

Ricochet guided Blurr over to the couch and sat him down, then left to the kitchen. A moment later he returned with the untouched takeout, the candles, and the half-drained bottle of fizzy highgrade. 

He set them all out on the table while Blurr watched. It wasn't as nice, or as fancy, as last night's very careful spread, but he lit the candles and poured the fizzy anyway. He handed Blurr one of the (normal, cube-shaped) glasses and settled down on the couch next to him. 

He toyed with his own glass, then pulled Blurr against him. "Okay. So, now that you know... I don't know... what else do you want to know?"

Blurr leaned in and relaxed, optics on one of the flickering candle flames as he thought. "Why now?" he asked as gently as he could, pushing curiosity into his field. This wasn't a judgment, but a need to understand because something must’ve spurred this on. "Why not last month or another three vorns from now?"

Ricochet's hand traced nonsense patterns on Blurr's plating with one claw, so light and gentle he didn't even disturb the gloss. "Dunno really. Prowl asked Jazz to bond a couple months ago. Jazz said no, 'cuz we can't bond unless it's both of us, but he wanted to tell Prowl we were twins. Told Jazz I wanted to tell you too. Didn't even make it a condition or anything. Jazz didn't tell Prowl though, not until he tells me yesterday that yeah, I can tell you we're twins too."

Lightning shot through Blurr, though he forced himself to stay relaxed and not jump to conclusions again. That was not Ricochet saying they would bond just because Prowl wanted to bond to Jazz. "Do you have to be there when they bond or is it that you both just have to bond at the same time?" A little fission of possessiveness and jealousy went through Blurr at the idea of Prowl getting to see Ricochet's spark before him.

There was a flicker of amusement in Ricochet's field and he poked Blurr between two armor plates. "Says the person who 'knows how it is' between twins. Split sparks gotta bond to the same person or not at all." Poke. "I ain't bonding to Prowl."

Blurr squirmed, grinning a bit as he got a finger under Ricochet's plating and poked — however pointlessly — back. "I never spoke to any of them about bonding. I just know that every single one of them would drop everything and everyone if their brother said so." He burrowed back into Ricochet's side and took a sip of the fizzy, delicate high grade. "I’ve said this already but that's still part of what upset me. Jazz could decide that's it, he doesn't want you to be with me, and... what could I possibly do about it? You say he doesn’t have the right, but he still has the ability." Even the thought made his throat tighten and his words grow thick. Would Jazz do it? Probably not, but the possibility was there and always would be.

"Dunno what you'd do about it, but I'd punch him again."

"Then I'm the wedge coming between you and your bondmate," Blurr said softly. He reached out and stroked the plating under one of the scratches. "I don't want you hurt more." Blurr huffed a slight laugh. "I'd also really like to never be punched by Jazz again. I mean, I'm going to try my damndest not to hurt you ever again, but he's gotta let us fix ourselves." A sudden thought made him straighten. "You wouldn't go charging over there to deck Prowl, would you?"

"Depends on what the fragger did." Ricochet sighed. "I dunno how to explain it but Jazz and me — we fight lots more than other twins we've seen.” Fight more than Sunstreaker and Sideswipe? Primus, Blurr thought, but simply nodded. “You wouldn't 'come between us'. We'd settle it. He does not have the right." Ricochet petted him reassuringly. “We ain’t Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. We’re too different, won’t ever be happy in the same relationship, with the same person. Doesn’t work that way with us. Only way it works is if we stay out of each other’s business.”

"Alright. So... commitment. What's that actually mean for us?"

"Forever, hopefully."

Blurr grinned. "Well, that's the plan. What I mean is, is anything changing? Are we not 'facing others anymore, because I'd be okay with that, but it's still not something I'd require." Even if it had been... huh. About a quarter vorn since he'd bothered with anyone else. "Are we telling anyone that we're... well, bondmates, I guess, or like permanently Intended? Do you ever want to raise a newspark?" No one on Cybertron had started building any yet, but there was more and more talk about it. Some point in the next millennium probably was the common expectation.

"You're mine. I ain't changing the rules on you: 'face whoever you want. For the rest," Ricochet sighed. "Don't know. What do you want?"

"You're mine too, right?" Blurr said and slid his arm over Ricochet's waist. "I don't need to change the rules, and you're in charge when we 'face still. I like a good dominant," he grinned. "I think I'd like to maybe tell my close friends we're Intended. Assuming," he added, hesitant, "that I'm not assuming that's what forever means."

"It's close enough, probably." Ricochet kissed the top of his head. "And yeah, I can be yours."

Blurr purred and snuggled in, careful not to spill his cube. "Then when you're okay with us telling those closest to us, I'd like to let my friends know. I mean, once I tell Whirl, it'll be everywhere in about five minutes, so I can wait until you're sure you want others knowing, but I'd like to call you my Intended. I'd like to be yours." He cycled his vents. "As for a newspark? I mentioned it to Drift once, that way down the road, I think I'd like to adopt someone with an interest in mixology or at least business to pass the bar onto when I retire. But it's not critical. I could find an apprentice just as easily instead."

"I don't know, really. I ain't a suitable guardian. Never was, never will be." Ricochet didn't sound hurt or angry about that, just stating a fact.

"How about, when they even start doing newsparks, after everyone frothing at the mouth for one has theirs, and if I'm ready to start planning my retirement, we can revisit that subject? Maybe an apprentice would be better? I remember Kup once saying that a caretaker never really stops being one." Blurr would give it more thought, but maybe he shouldn't be a caretaker? Maybe those already dreaming about who their bitlet would be were the ones who should get the responsibility? Plus, he wouldn’t want to saddle Ricochet with a responsibility he wasn’t interested in. Yeah, they could revisit the question later.

Blurr shook it off and tipped his head back to look up at Ricochet. "Hey. I really do love you, and I understand now. I really do appreciate you going out of your way to make telling me special. Can I make it up to you? Is there anything you want to know?"

"Don't need your secrets." Ricochet rolled them over carefully, repositioning them so that he pinned Blurr gently to the couch. "You'll tell me, or not, when it's important. I was just being an aft last night."

Blurr reached out to set his glass on the floor before winding both arms around Ricochet. That was… well, that was how it had always been with Ricochet: he didn’t pressure Blurr for more than he was willing to give. Because Prowl, the fragger, was right. "Well, they are all dead. And the mechs who I've been with who are still alive and didn't treat me the best..." He shrugged. "They're just not worth it to me to be upset over anymore." He smiled and squirmed under Ricochet just to feel their plating slide together. "Though if you're feeling really squirrelly one day and Springer gives you the excuse, you can punch him in the face."

"Like I need an excuse." Ricochet grinned, visibly already looking forward to it. Mech was finally going to get into a good fight with a former Wrecker.

"Come back to me in one piece and don't get arrested," Blurr chuckled, smoothing his hands along Ricochet's back. He sobered slightly. "We're okay?"

"Yeah." Ricochet pulled his wrists around front and locked them into his cuffs. Real stasis cuffs, Blurr knew, but no stasis field came on. "Gonna tie you to the couch now."

"Then what?" Blurr asked, arching his back to press his chest closer to Ricochet's. Anything, his field sang as it meshed with his lover's— his Intended's.

"Gonna ravish you."

"I like when you do that." Blurr dragged a leg up the outside of Ricochet's and hooked it over his hip to drag him in closer. "I'm all yours."

.

◇─◇──◇──◇─◇

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End

**Author's Note:**

> This work is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
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> Author Responses:
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> dragonofdispair - This author always replies to comments, often with just an expression of thanks or happiness. I will always answer questions, though if the answer is spoilery I will simply say “no spoilers”. And while I absolutely love long threads and discussion, I may not reply to extremely long threads due to time constraints.
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